Redemption
by Rovermedic
Summary: McM deals with the news of Natch Austin's 'death'


  
  
  
Redemption  
  
  
The excitement was beginning to die down in the ER as McMurphy emerged   
from the OR drenched in sweat and covered with blood. It was the worst that she   
could remember. There were casualties everywhere. Triage had been   
overworked and it was becoming difficult to tell the actual casualties and walking   
wounded from the staff that was like-wise blood stained. Dr. Richard was   
nowhere in sight. Just as the stream of wounded was stemmed, he had been   
called away by a thin blonde haired sergeant and she hadn't seen him since.   
McMurphy grabbed a passing orderly by his stained sleeve. "Have you seen Dr.   
Richard?"  
  
The young man looked at her, obviously irritated to be detained. "Yes ma'am, he   
was called over to the MARS shack."  
  
"Thanks" she said as she walked on past him. Beth Ann, she thought to herself. It   
was the only reason she could think of for him to be called to the communication   
shack. Either Beth Ann had decided she had made a mistake and wanted to call   
off the divorce or she had decided to go through with the divorce and wanted to   
tell him personally. Remembering that the personal touch was not Beth Ann's   
style, she decided it was likely the former. Either way he would need company at   
the Jet Set tonight to attain a state of 'Blotto'. That was something she could also   
use herself right now in light of her recent break up with Natch Austin. Could it   
really be considered a break up? She asked herself. After all, he had been   
married the whole time they had been together.  
  
Working her way toward the end of the ward, she looked up to see Richard   
walking toward her. His expression was grim as he walked up to her and put a   
hand on her arm.   
  
McMurphy had to stop herself from taking a step back. Physical contact was   
something she denied herself around Richard. It kept the walls up and allowed   
her to function efficiently as a nurse and friend. "Beth Ann?" she asked assuming   
the call had been from his estranged wife.  
  
Richard looked down at the piece of paper clutched in his free hand. Where   
would he start? "McMurphy, I have something to tell you."  
  
McMurphy looked down at his hand that was still clutching the cable. She felt the   
cold fingers of dread wrapping around her stomach. Whatever he had to say, she   
knew she didn't want to hear it. Because if she were to it would rip her world   
apart and she would never be the same.  
  
"It's Natch," he said almost whispering, "He's dead"  
  
McMurphy felt like a bomb had exploded right next to her. She couldn't breathe   
or think or feel. She just was. As Richard reached out to her everything went   
black.  
  
  
A couple of hours later McMurphy opened her eyes. At first she couldn't figure   
out where she was but slowly she recognized the all too familiar setting of the   
Operating Room. It was dark and quiet so the influx of casualties must have   
halted, for now at least. Slowly she raised herself up on the table. She noticed a   
dark and familiar shape in the corner. "What happened?"  
  
Dick Richard turned a small light on so she could see. He got up from his stool in   
the corner and sat on the table next to McMurphy. "Well, the word is that Charlie   
decided to celebrate the New Year in a big way this year."  
  
"That's not what I meant."  
  
"I know." He replied. Taking the crumpled paper out of his breast pocket he   
smoothed it out and read it again. He handed it to her. "It doesn't say much   
except that his plane was shot down by heavy ground fire and his wing man   
never saw a chute. I doubt we'll ever know much more."  
  
McMurphy put the paper in her pocket. She thought of the last time she had seen   
Natch in his quarters in Da Nang. She had gone practically begging for his   
attentions, hoping to revive a relationship she thought was mutual. The next   
morning she discovered the wedding photo of him and his wife. When confronted   
he admitted it and had given her the usual arguments: he wanted to tell his wife,   
the marriage was a mistake, and he wanted a divorce. McMurphy had turned a   
deaf ear and a cold heart. She said things she had never said to anyone in her   
life. Since then she fought the guilt and pain of separation, but knew that was not   
the kind of situation she wanted to be in the middle of. Her Irish Catholic   
upbringings forbade it. Now she had a new kind of guilt to contend with. The last   
words she said to Natch were hateful and full of venom. Now she would never   
have the chance to take them back.  
  
She looked down at her hands trying to find the strength to hold back her tears.   
"He was married, you know."  
  
"No, I didn't" He started to reach out to McMurphy but pulled away. He didn't   
know if it would be appropriate under the circumstances. Right now all he wanted   
was to be her friend, but he didn't know how to let her know that he understood   
what betrayal meant, too. Beth Ann had taught him that emotion well. "We've got   
things in hand around here right now, so why don't you take a couple of days off   
and get your head together."  
  
"No. I can't. I need the work."   
  
"Huh-uh. I can have you in here seeing Natch in every boy that comes in with a   
frag wound. You'll drive yourself nuts. Time-off. It's an order." His voice was stern   
though his heart was breaking for her. "Go swimming, read a book or get 'blotto'.   
Hell, I'll loan you my golf clubs. Just don't let me see your face around here for   
48 hours. Understood?"  
  
Sliding off the table to her feet, McMurphy gave an exaggerated salute. "Yes sir!"  
  
"McMurphy."   
  
McMurphy turned just before she reached the door.  
  
Richard reached for a parcel on the table at his side and handed it to her. "K.C.   
sent this over for you."  
  
Raising her eyebrows in astonishment she opened the bag. Inside she found a   
bottle of twelve-year-old scotch. "Thank her for me."  
  
"Thank her yourself, in forty-eight hours."  
  
  
The beach was isolated and McMurphy was free to sip her drink without   
interruption as she watched the sun sink below the horizon. One of the few   
beauties she had found in this land of death and destruction was the sunsets.  
Untainted by a skyline or industrialized pollution, they were a magnificent pallet.  
Unfortunately, the population was too busy killing itself and everyone else to   
notice. Perhaps it was the one thing she would miss when she returned to the   
world. When she returned to the world. She had been in country so long she   
couldn't remember what the world was like. Everyone over here marked time by   
what they remembered of the world and home.   
  
  
As they had many times recently her thoughts returned to Natch. He had a ticket   
home and wouldn't take it. When the Air Force grounded him he should have   
been glad to return to the States, but instead he was looking for a way to get into   
the cockpit again. And it had killed him. She didn't know if she could ever forgive   
him for that. She had already forgiven him for lying to her. Hell, everyone was   
lonely and it was only normal to find a little comfort where you could. But he knew   
getting back in that plane was suicide.  
  
WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP  
  
  
McMurphy looked up at the sound, another dust-off with more casualties. Three   
choppers this time. It would be getting busy back at the unit in a few minutes.   
She wondered if Richard would let her back in for a little therapeutic work. It   
wouldn't hurt to try, she thought to herself. She got up and reached for her towel,   
brushing herself off as she ran toward the base. Remembering her forgotten   
bottle of scotch she turned back to get it in time to see a brilliant shimmer of light   
shoot across the sky. Closing her eyes tightly she made her best wish. Only then   
did she feel her redemption.  
  
  
  
Paula Austin  
May 11, 2000  



End file.
